One Week in the Private House (22 page)

'Rather special, Miss? I'll say she is! She's amazing. She's so beautiful. Everyone's talking about her, you know.'

'Have you seen her, then?'

'Only from a distance, Miss. But she's got a lovely walk. And she's so slim and small and sexy. A bit like you, Miss, if you don't mind me saying so.'

Maxine blushed and looked away. Julia was terribly flattered, but she suppressed her smile of childish glee and pinched the maid's nipple to punish her over-familiarity. That's enough cheek!' she said. 'What is everyone saying about Jem?'

'Well, Miss, she's been all over the estate, and all in her first day here. They say she's made all the Security instructors look a bunch of right idiots - pardon me, Miss, but that's what they say. The Master's infatuated with her, by all accounts, and she's got him round her little finger. They say he's making mistakes, and that she's sorting out all of his problems for him. And she's got a kind word for everyone, even the slaves.'

'And would you like to meet her, Maxine?'

'Oh, Miss! I'd give anything. I'm so jealous of you, being with her all the time.'

'Not all the time, I'm afraid. But I'll see what I can do.' Julia couldn't bring herself to resent Maxine's unquestioning adulation of the Master's consort, as she had to admit her own feelings were as rapturous. 'But you'll have to be very good, Maxine. I expect impeccable service.'

'I'm always good to you, Miss.'

'Then stay undressed. I'll put my uniform on myself. Get on the bed and play with yourself. And don't take your eyes off me for a moment!'

How unseemly, Julia thought as she emphasised the sway of her hips on her way to the wardrobe, I'm putting on a show for my maid! She opened the door and spread apart her long legs as she bent to retrieve a pair of boots. She glanced back to see Maxine kneeling on the bed, one hand roaming across her breasts, the other between her plump thighs, and her eyes fixed on Julia's round bottom. Julia felt a tickling, seeping moistness in her loins, and decided that she must dress herself this way more often in future. She pushed back the door so that she could watch her reflection in the mirror and also see Maxine's slowly moving body on the bed beyond.

The leather collar seemed less uncomfortable than on the previous day. She fingered the bright metal studs and the rings of steel. She pictured Jem next to her, similarly naked but for a black leather choker; she imagined the two of them linked to each other by a short length of chain that obliged their faces to touch, their lips to meet constantly. Maxine gave a quiet groan of pleasure.

Julia next pulled on the long lace gloves, touching the material to her nipples as she crossed her arms to smooth the gloves against her skin. She turned away from the mirror, presenting her back to Maxine as she stepped into the boots and bent to tug the long leather cylinders round her calves and thighs, taking her time as she tightened the laces. 'Miss Julia, please come here, Miss Julia, please,' Maxine was calling to her, softly, but Julia merely smiled and stroked her hands up the taut black leather, from heels to thighs and across the rounded hillocks of her arse to her waist.

Today the soft leather tunic felt like a second skin. I look bloody marvellous, Julia said to herself as she lifted her long black curls above the lace-trimmed high collar and turned to look at herself in the mirror. Her breasts were contained within the shaped bodice, her bottom was almost completely covered by the tunic's stiff skirt, but the leather was cut away at the front of her thighs to frame her triangle of black hair. The wide belt had three buckles, and as she tightened them one after another she felt her sexuality throbbing more insistently with the increasing constriction of her waist. She was dressed. She gave Maxine a final display of her hindquarters as she reached into the wardrobe for her flicker; then she turned and strode to the bed.

Maxine had collapsed on the quilt, both hands clenched between her moving thighs, her eyes only half open as she watched Julia approach. 'Up!' Julia shouted, pretending to be angry with her voluptuous maid. 'On your knees. And keep playing with yourself!'

Maxine struggled into an upright position. Julia's eyes followed the maid's big breasts as they swayed from side to side. She slapped her flicker against her leather-clad thigh and, having enjoyed the sensation, she did it again, harder. She was definitely starting to have fun in Security, she thought, and pressed the strip of plaited leather into Maxine's trembling mounds.

'Where is your right hand, Maxine?' she said, tapping the girl's right nipple with the tip of the slender whip.

'Here, Miss,' the maid replied with a smile, 'between my legs.'

'And where are your fingers?'

Tve got two up inside me, Miss, and my thumb's just touching my little buttom.'

Julia used the tip of the flicker to push the maid's left nipple into its vast cushion of flesh. 'And your left hand?'

'In my arse, Miss. I've got two fingers up my bum.'

'Good girl, Maxine.' Julia allowed the nipple to spring back into position. She used the flicker on each breast in turn, stroking it upwards, lifting the heavy pendant bulbs of flesh, flicking the nipples and letting the breasts drop again with a bounce against the girl's ribs. 'I'd love to flicker your breasts properly,' she said, 'and watch you come at the same time. But I've got to do some more silly old training. I'll have to leave you here to enjoy yourself without me.'

'Thank you, Miss,' the maid said, red-faced and struggling to overcome the tremors in her voice. 'I'll tidy the room this morning, if that's all right. And Miss - don't forget you said you'd try to arrange for me to meet Miss Jem.'

'I won't forget, Maxine. And if I succeed, you naughty little thing, I'm going to give myself a reward. I'm going to give myself your great big breasts to play with. That's what the Master would call an incentive.'

Lucy had woken to find herself alone in her room. Asmita had gone.

There was still no sign of her at breakfast. Lucy, oblivious to the scandalised glances of the waitresses, was devouring a third grapefruit half when she noticed the man in the Jeeves outfit snaking across the dining-room. He was making for her table. When he reached it, he bowed. Lucy, who had been preparing for a verbal duel, found herself without an opponent. The man was even more obsequious than usual, and had removed all trace of his habitual half-concealed sneer.

'Madam,' he murmured. 'I'm terribly sorry to disturb your meal.'

'Don't worry. You can't really call it a meal anyway, can you?'

The man winced. 'My sincere apologies, madam, if the catering displeases in any way. I am the Under-Manager and of course I'll do my utmost to comply with any dietary requests. But first: there is an urgent missive for you at the reception desk. It arrived by courier; by very special courier, if you take my meaning. Please allow me to escort you.'

Lucy had no idea what the Under-Manager was talking about, but she was interested in important messages. And the Under-Manager seemed to think that this particular message was on a par with a summons to Buckingham Palace. She followed him to the Club's front hallway.

The Under-Manager disappeared into a curtain-covered alcove, and returned with a grey metal strongbox which he placed on the reception desk. He pulled a bunch of keys from his waistcoat, unlocked the box, and opened it with the elan of a quiz-show compere. He withdrew a long envelope, holding it between finger and thumb as if he expected it to burst into flames. He placed it on a silver plate, which he then offered to Lucy.

The envelope was sealed with a blob of red wax, into which had been imprinted a cursive capital M. It meant nothing to Lucy. She ripped open the envelope and turned away from the desk to shield the contents from the Under-Manager's curious gaze. There was a single sheet of paper bearing a brief message.

Trust me. I'm a friend. I will provide the answers to the questions youve been asking. Meet me in the equipment room of the tennis court pavilion at 1.00 pm today. Make sure you are not followed. Walk alongside, and not within, the avenue of silver birches. Burn this note and the envelope that contained it.

Lucy's first thought was that the note must be from Julia; but then, as she re-read the strange instructions, doubts entered her mind. She should have been thrilled - she had a real lead at last - but she kept puzzling over the mystery of the avenue of silver birches. The Under-Manager coughed discreetly, his eyes straying to the paper as he loomed at Lucy's shoulder.

is there anything at all I can do, madam? Only too glad to be of service in any way at all ...'

'Oh, er, no thanks.' Lucy crumpled the note in her hand, i'm just going up to my room. Oh yes! Could you have someone bring up some tennis clothes? Thank you. Oh, and a box of matches, too, please.'

'Only too happy to oblige, madam,' the Under-Manager said. Suddenly I'm a VIP, Lucy thought; this letter must be from someone in high places. I think I'm getting somewhere at last.

i'm glad to see you looking well this morning.' Terence Headman's black cloak covered him from throat to ankles; his blue eyes glittered behind the grotesquely-shaped mask that covered the upper half of his face, not to disguise but rather to add menace to his appearance. Jem had some idea of the sights she was about to witness; and she was torn between excitement and distaste, i had a good night's sleep. I'm ready for anything.' i would expect no less of you, Jem. I see you have found yet another resplendent costume.'

Jem's bra consisted of two cones of red leather, each tipped with a silver spike, held in place by an excessive array of chains that ran round her torso and up to a red leather collar. She wore red lace gloves and stockings, the latter held up by chains clipped to a wide belt; also clipped to the belt were three chains between which was a tiny red leather cache-sex. i thought this would be suitable for a trip to the dungeons,' she said.

They were standing outside the door of
Headman
's dressing room in the Round Tower, in a corridor dimly lit by arrow-slits filled with stained glass in deep recesses in the walls at each end. Headman opened a concealed door in the base of a statue of a satyr carrying off a nymph, and extracted a portable phone. He dialled a number, replaced the instrument, and declared he was ready to leave.

i'll have to blindfold you, Jem. Only Security
personnel
are allowed where we're going.'

'You just like to get me helpless,' Jem said with what she hoped was a bewitching smile. 'But OK, just so long as the blindfold matches my outfit.' Inwardly she cursed; she had wanted to find out the route from Headman's eyrie to the Security headquarters.

Two young Security men climbed towards them up the spiral staircase, and Jem allowed them to cover her eyes with a strip of red silk. She couldn't see; Headman pulled her hair free of the blindfold, tightened the knot, squeezed her leather-bound breasts as he kissed her tenderly, and took her arm.

They walked only a few steps before Headman pulled her to a stop. She heard him pressing buttons, and then she heard a click, followed by the swish of a door opening. So that's how to open the sealed door outside Headman's suite, she thought; the only problem is that I don't know the code number.

The little group moved forward. Jem felt a change in temperature - the air beyond the door was a few degrees colder - and then her feet were on uncarpeted stairs that spiralled downwards. Jem was grateful for Headman's hand on her arm, although she could have managed without his other, which gripped the chain between her buttocks.

Jem counted the steps: a hundred and twenty, give or take a few. She assumed that they must by now be under ground.

The floor was level, but still bare. Headman stopped again; there was more button-pressing to open a door. The group moved on.

Jem sensed that they had entered a large space: she could hear people talking nearby and in the distance, voices on radios crackly with static, the hum of electronic equipment and air conditioning. From the fifteenth to the twenty-first century in a hundred and twenty steps, Jem mused; not bad going. Orders were being issued, reports were being received. She was sure they had arrived in some sort of control room. This could be the heart of the Security network, and she couldn't^ see a damned thing! Her escort moved across the vast room, saying nothing except for Headman's single brusque greeting: 'Morning, Chief!'

Anderson, Jem thought. Chief Anderson. Julia's boss. In which case this must be the Rotunda, the Security base beneath the Great Hall. Is the dungeon here, too, in the cellars of the Round Tower?

No, I guess not, she said to herself as they reached the far side of the echoing chamber, because it looks like we're going for a ride. Headman lifted her on to a leather seat, and she felt him and the two guards climb on to seats nearby. There was a jerk, and they started moving forward. An underground train, Jem realised. Not much noise; probably electric. Impossible to estimate speed or distance. Where the hell are we going?

The vehicle stopped. Headman and the guards dismounted. Jem winced as fingers closed round her nipples and pulled fiercely; she had to follow the movement, and found herself falling forward, out of her seat and into Headman's arms. He kissed her again, and then pushed her away. She heard more buttons being pressed, and the slide of metal doors. Headman pulled her forward on to a stone floor, and then through a set of swing doors. She felt her heels sinking into carpet, and blinked as the blindfold was removed. The guards had gone. She was alone with the Master.